


The Riteous Man

by supernatural9917



Series: Destiel Smut Bingo 2018 [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Destiel Smut Bingo 2018, M/M, Nobleman Castiel, Nobleman Dean, Restoration England, highwayman - Freeform, two-person love triangle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 14:51:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17510699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernatural9917/pseuds/supernatural9917
Summary: Castiel loves Dean, but knows they can never be together, so he fantasises about the dashing highwayman The Riteous Man. Will he feel the same way when The Riteous Man targets his carriage?Written for the Destiel Smut Bingo 2018. Square filled: 2 person love triangle.Based on art byPimento





	The Riteous Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pimento](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimento/gifts).



> Pimmy made this beautiful [art](https://pimentogirl.tumblr.com/post/182156564734/highwaymandean-my-new-favourite-au-is), and I just had to write something for it. And then lucky me, she made more art, which is at the end because spoilers ;) This is set circa 1700, and I've tried to be as period-accurate as possible, but there's less information available on that period than for later periods, so I apologise if there are any anachronisms. Thanks to athaclena for her usual beta prowess!

'Dean!' Castiel cried out, running towards the stables where he knew his friend could be found. Sure enough, Dean was inside, brushing his black stallion Impala. It was hardly a job for a man of noble birth, but Dean didn't trust any of the grooms with his favourite steed. As was his wont when in the country, Dean wore only a simple shirt and coat over plain breeches, hose and riding boots, his long hair clubbed back with a black ribbon and no wig or powder in sight.

Dean turned at the sound of his name and waved at Castiel. 'Hullo, Cas, what has you in such uproar?'

'He's struck again, Dean! The Riteous Man!'

Dean rolled his eyes and went back to brushing his horse. 'You become far too agitated about a common criminal, Cas.'

'A common criminal? Dean, he is our very own Robin Hood! Stopping the carriages of wealthy nobles and using the spoils to feed and clothe the poor- he is a hero, Dean!'

'May I remind you that you and I are also wealthy nobles, and therefore could be his victims at any time?' Dean chided. It was an old argument, one that dated back to a year earlier when The Riteous Man had first appeared in ---shire. Castiel would wax lyrical about the highwayman, Dean would argue that there was no merit in lawbreaking, Castiel would counter that he was only taking from those who had too much already and providing comfort to those who had too little. Dean would say that Castiel was as enamoured of the land pirate's dashing attire as he was of his ethics, and Castiel could not disagree with that.

Theirs was an unusual friendship; born to neighbouring noble estates, Castiel had been left orphaned as a child when the rest of his family was carried off by a fever that he had barely survived. His only other relatives had been living in the Low Countries at the time, but he had been too ill to be moved that far. To remove him from the poisonous humours, John and Mary Winchester had taken him into a sick room in their own house, and after his recovery, had agreed to keep fostering him while his distant relatives paid his way. He had quickly become part of the family, and he and Dean had become inseparable. Now twenty-one, they were still as close as brothers.

Well.. perhaps not brothers.

Castiel had realised he was different from an early age, when other boys were trying to kiss girls and he just wasn't interested. Later, when his nether regions did begin to show an interest in something, it wasn't girls; his manhood would perk up at the sight of one of the grooms taking off a sweat-drenched shirt, or a handsome redcoat riding through the village, or Dean doing… well-nigh anything. Castiel had, of course, kept his desires hidden as long as he could, but in the end there was only so much that could be hidden from your bedfellow. They had been sixteen when Castiel had awoken rutting against Dean's thigh. In his embarrassment, he had tried to pull away, and been surprised when Dean's arm had reached out and pulled him close again.

'Cas,' Dean had sighed before kissing him, and they had both found their completion soon after. Since then, they had spent many nights exploring each other without ever speaking of it once the sun was up. Castiel knew that they could never be together in the way he would wish it- that Dean would one day inherit the estate and have to marry, that Castiel himself would need to do the same- and that for Dean their passions in the dark were just relief for his natural urges, thus it was better never to speak and therefore never be rejected.

So now Castiel threw all of his romantic phantasies into The Riteous Man, dashing highwayman and hero.

'You know as well as I, Dean, that The Riteous Man only takes from those wealthy gentlemen who do not look after their own people. The generosity and care your father has always shewn to his tenants and servants means no Winchester would ever be his target, and I have taken pains to ensure that my steward does the same on the Milton estates as well.'

'There is your mistake, Cas- you should start being cruel to your tenants, raising their rents and ravishing their daughters, then go for nightly carriage rides bedecked in jewels. He is sure to come after you then.' Dean grinned impishly, and Castiel gave him a playful shove.

'As much as I should like to catch more than the mere glimpse I saw of him three weeks ago, I would prefer it not to occur at the wrong end of his rapier,' Castiel replied dryly.

'Really? I thought you had a particular interest in his _rapier_ ,' Dean teased, thrusting his hips suggestively. Castiel shoved him harder this time, and Dean fell back into a pile of hay with a smirk on his lips. 'I do not hear you denying it.'

'I do not deny it. I would happily offer myself as a scabbard for his rapier on any evening at his leisure, though I should also be quite happy to thrust my own sword to the hilt if he were so inclined.' That made Dean laugh aloud, a sound that never failed to put a smile on Castiel's own lips. Castiel offered Dean his hand and helped him to his feet.

'Did you just come out here to tell me of the exploits of your beloved, or did you have some other conversation for me?' Dean asked as he brushed the hay off his coat.

'Ah, yes. Your father begs you to return to the house, he is expecting a visitor and we must both be at our most presentable.'

'Oh? Do you know who it is?'

Castiel's face soured. 'Unfortunately, I believe it is my cousin, Zachariah. I had a letter from him a se'nnight since telling me he was coming to England and needed to speak to me on an urgent family matter.'

Dean put a hand on Castiel's shoulder. 'That is unfortunate. Very well, I should probably wash the stench of horse dung and hay from myself.' Impala whinnied as if offended, and Dean turned to pat her neck. 'There, there, girl. Come now.' He led her back into her stall and closed the door before heading out of the stable.

They separated once they got to the house, Dean to bathe and Castiel to write his morning letters. They met again at the bell for dinner, where they were joined by Dean's parents and seventeen-year-old brother Samuel. John explained that their expected visitor was indeed Zachariah Adler, Castiel's cousin from his mother's side, who was to spend the next month in England on what he said were sensitive family matters. Castiel assumed this meant he was on the hunt for his fourth wife and shuddered with pity at the thought of whoever that poor lady might be.

Zachariah arrived in the middle of the afternoon, and after he'd refreshened from the road, joined them for tea in the drawing room. He paid his obsequious respects to the Winchesters and told them of his travels in the dullest possible way before getting to the point of his visit.

'I have come to take Castiel to London,' he explained between sips of his tea. 'I have made a match for him.'

Castiel's jaw dropped. 'What do you mean, a match?'

'I mean, I have finally found a lady suitable to take on the Milton name. You'll accompany me to London tomorrow, where I will introduce you to your bride. The wedding will take place this time next month. You are all invited, of course,' he added, bowing his head respectfully.

'I thank you for your pains, but I do not feel prepared to marry as yet,' Castiel said coolly.

'Nonsense. You are of age and have a thriving estate, what further preparation do you require? Lady Margaret Masters is a very accomplished young woman, I am certain you will do very well together.'

Castiel stood, his face pale. 'Pray, excuse me.' He gave the party a curt bow and hurried out of the room. Dean exchanged a glance with his mother, who nodded, and he too excused himself to go after Castiel.

'Cas!' he called out when they were well away from the drawing room. 'Are you unwell?'

'I am quite well, thank you. I simply needed… I cannot… Dean, I do not wish to be married,' Castiel replied, face pale and hands trembling. 'I knew that it would one day come to this, but… I simply _cannot_.'

Dean took Castiel's hands, and after looking around to confirm that they were alone, placed a calming kiss on Castiel's knuckles. Castiel gasped; this was the first such sign of affection they had ever exchanged in daylight. 'Cas… Although we have been fortunate that you were allowed to remain here after you came of age instead of returning to your own estate, we knew it could not last for ever. It is difficult, but we have always known our duty. We shall still be neighbours once you are married, and we can still be… intimate friends.'

Castiel wrenched his hands away from Dean's grip. 'If that is all you have to say to me after all these years…' He sighed and shook his head. 'Excuse me, I need to instruct my valet to pack my trunks.' He stormed away, leaving Dean staring wordlessly after him.

**********

It wasn't that unusual for Dean to spend some nights with Samuel instead of Castiel, but tonight of all nights, his _final_ night, Castiel thought they would have spent together. Instead, Dean had clapped him on the shoulder and followed Samuel to his room, leaving Castiel to toss and turn alone.

The morning was sombre. All of Castiel's possessions had been packed, with the majority being sent to his own manor to await his return after the wedding, while the belongings he needed for the month in London would be going in Zachariah's carriage with them. Never again would he live with the Winchesters- with Dean. He looked back at the home of his heart until it was but a speck in the distance.

London was a mere day's journey away, but Zachariah did not seem to be in any hurry. They stopped at a coaching inn an hour after midday for their dinner, and Zachariah was leisurely in consuming it. Their driver warned that they would not make it to their destination before dark, but Zachariah insisted that they press on.

The road was lit only by the moon as they approached ---ton, and they had not seen any other travellers for some time when the sound of pounding hoofbeats came up quickly behind and then past them. A moment later, the driver gave a shout and pulled up the horses, bringing the carriage to a sudden stop. Zachariah rapped his cane on the roof angrily.

'What is the meaning of this?' he shouted, but it was not the driver who responded.

'Stand and deliver!' shouted a deep voice, and Castiel threw open the door to see who it belonged to. His heart thrilled at the unmistakable form of The Riteous Man.

'How dare you?' Zachariah shrieked. 'Do you know who I am?'

The Riteous Man gave as sweeping bow as he could from horseback. 'But of course, Lord Adler. I am, I assure you, honoured to make your acquaintance. Now, if you please, hand over your most valuable possession and we can both be on our way without further violence.'

Castiel could scarce draw breath. The object of all his phantasies was there before him, near enough to touch, and he could only sit there frozen. There was something familiar about the highwayman, and even his horse, but it remained impalpable, so he just stared.

'I suppose you want my purse and jewels,' Zachariah complained, but The Riteous Man shook his head and pointed his pistol at Castiel.

'I want him.'

Castiel couldn't believe it. The Riteous Man never took hostages; what could this possibly mean?

'Why on earth do you want him?' Zachariah asked, confused. 'I won't pay a ransom, I swear it!'

'My business with him is my own. You shall not be troubled for a ransom. Now, will you hand him over peacefully, or,' he cocked his pistol and aimed it at Zachariah's head, 'will I have to take him?'

Castiel continued to stare open-mouthed, which was why he missed Zachariah moving towards him until he was jostling Castiel towards the door. 'Take him, fiend!' Zachariah shouted. Castiel stumbled out of the carriage, landing on his knees on the hard earth of the road.

'You should take greater care with your precious cargo,' The Riteous Man growled, jumping down from his horse to help Castiel to his feet. As Castiel brushed himself off, The Riteous Man punched Zachariah in the face and slammed the door shut. 'Come, we must depart quickly,' he said to Castiel. 'Do you have any possessions that are particularly dear to you in the carriage?'

Castiel shook his head and patted the satchel at his hip. 'Everything I truly require is here.'

'Good. Let us be off.' He climbed back in the saddle before helping Castiel swing up behind him. Once they were both safely seated, he kicked the horse into a gallop without saying another word.

Castiel lost track of time as they rode. His arms were wrapped around The Riteous Man's waist, and he rested his face against his kidnapper's broad, muscular back. Perhaps under other circumstances he would have been frightened, but the moment he had found himself in the saddle, he knew all would be well. He knew this horse. He knew the body he was pressed so tightly against.

Dean was The Riteous Man.

Impala was beginning to lather when they pulled up outside a small hunting lodge. Dean jumped down and offered his hand to Castiel to help him dismount. He tied Impala's reigns next to a water trough before leading Castiel into the lodge. There was already a fire going- Dean had clearly been prepared to bring them here.

'You needn't be afraid,' he said, his back to Castiel as he stoked the fire. 'I would never hurt you.'

'I know,' Castiel replied. 'You have rescued me. Thank you, Dean.'

Dean spun around sharply, eyes wide. 'You know me?'

'I'm ashamed to say I knew Impala first, but I am certain that if I had seen you in daylight, I would have known you anywhere.' They stared for the length of another heartbeat, and then rushed into each other's arms.

'Cas, my sweet Castiel, I could not let him take you. You are mine, only mine,' Dean insisted, pressing kisses on Castiel's lips.

'Yes, only yours, Dean. I was heartbroken when you did not lie with me last night. I thought I should never have you again.'

'I had to speak with Sammy, make arrangements in case you agreed to my scheme.' Their hands made quick work of undressing each other as they spoke.

'What is your scheme?'

'We ride north, as quickly as we can. There is an obscure small-holding belonging to my mother's family in ---shire. We can live out our days there together.'

'But Dean, what of your estate? Your inheritance?' Castiel cried.

'Sammy will be better at all of that lord of the manor business than I ever could be,' Dean replied. 'He has been studying alongside me throughout his life, he is well-prepared to take my place.' Dean kissed his way down Castiel's now-bare chest until he was on his knees, then opened the fastenings on Castiel's breeches to free his erect manhood. Castiel gasped as Dean's lips surrounded it, his head bobbing to take more and more into his mouth.

'Dean, please,' he begged, but Dean pulled away before Castiel could reach completion. 'Why did you stop?'

'I have a different scabbard for your fine rapier, my lord,' Dean explained with a sly smile. He pulled off his boots and removed the rest of his clothing, and Castiel hastily followed suit. Dean reached into a cupboard and pulled out a small jar of oil before leading Castiel to the bed. 'I have dreamed of you taking possession of me this way, but I never had the temerity to ask,' Dean admitted, putting the jar into Castiel's hands. 'I am asking now.'

'Dean,' Castiel sighed, 'I am honoured.' He kissed Dean passionately, imbuing it with all the desire and gratitude in his heart. When they pulled apart, Dean lay on his stomach on the bed, presenting and submitting himself to Castiel. 'Oh, my love, you are so very beautiful.'

His ministrations began gently, a single finger dipped in oil and slowly working into Dean's inviting heat; but soon their hunger overwhelmed them, and the preparations became more frenzied. Dean begged him to hurry, to fill him, and by the time he had three fingers sliding in and out of Dean's entrance, Castiel could hardly contain his own passion. Using a generous portion of the oil to cover his manhood, he slowly slid into Dean until he was ensheathed to the hilt.

'Cas,' Dean panted, 'God's blood, this is… I did not know it could be like this.'

Castiel let his body drape over Dean's back and intertwined their fingers together. 'Nor did I. It is the sweetest delight I have ever experienced.' Dean moaned his agreement as Castiel rocked his hips forward.

He tried to make love slowly, to savour this moment for as long as he could, but Dean's body was hungry for him, pulling him back in each time he pulled out, and Dean's contented sighs and filthy moans drove him to go harder, faster. He pulled Dean up onto his knees and grasped his hips for greater leverage, fucking into him with wild abandon. Dean reached a hand down to stroke himself, and moments later he cried out as his ecstasy overtook him. Castiel reached his peak soon after, filling Dean, claiming him as his own for ever more.

After Castiel had cleaned them with wet rags warm from the fire, they lay together, limbs tangled and breaths mingling. At first the silence was comfortable, but Castiel could feel Dean growing increasingly ill at ease.

'When do we leave for ---shire?' he asked, and all the tension drained from Dean's body.

'Once we have broken our fast in the morning,' Dean replied. 'I have another horse waiting five miles hence, so we do not strain Impala too greatly by having two riders for the entire journey.'

'And what will become of The Riteous Man when we are in the north?'

'He can fade into obscurity. Or perhaps he can acquire a partner in crime.'

Castiel turned his head and smiled, matching Dean's wide grin. 'This partner will require a suitably dashing name.'

'Of course. The Masked Marauder, perhaps?'

'Ridiculous.'

'The Caped Crusader?'

'Dean, do be serious.'

'Very well. What about… The Avenging Angel?'

Castiel nodded emphatically. 'That shall do very well indeed. The Riteous Man and The Avenging Angel, feared highwaymen of the north, taking from the rich to help the poor. I like it.'

'It is an arousing proposition,' Dean agreed, running his hand down Castiel's stomach. 'But let us think on that tomorrow. For tonight, I believe it is my turn to find a scabbard for my sword.'

Castiel agreed wholeheartedly.


End file.
